Chasing Pavements
by Thorne Lockehart
Summary: "This ain't lust, I know this is love" Isabella didn't want to let anyone in after being abandoned by her ex-boyfriend, but Don was the exception. He had always been the exception. Established Flack/OC 'Flacino' relationship Danny/OC 'Danver', eventual Adam/OC 'Rossdusky'
1. Reluctance

_**A/N: This is a spin-off to RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal's Adam/OC fic 'That Old Feeling.' Who can guess which movie has the quote: "Your mom goes to college!" without Googling it? All mistakes are mine. Isabella is based on Joanna Pacitti and Armando is based on Mark Strong.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own no one of CSI: NY. RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal owns Denver and Hayden Sandusky. I own Isabella Pacino and her family.**_

_**Summary: "This ain't lust, I know this is love" Isabella didn't want to let anyone in after being abandoned by her ex-boyfriend, but Don was the exception. He had always been the exception. Established Flack/OC 'Flacino' relationship Danny/OC 'Danver', eventual Adam/OC 'Rossdusky'**_

* * *

_Please don't chain that door_

_I can't win this war_

_Your body's like a pill I shouldn't take_

__Jake Owen — Alone With You

* * *

When Don met Isabella Pacino for the first time, he had no earthly idea that she would be so important to him. He also didn't know she was the _only _daughter of FBI Agent Armando Pacino. Any NYPD cop and any unlucky son of a bitch dumb enough to cross the hard-ass's path at a bad time could vouch that Armando was a man not to be trifled with. But any red-blooded man could also vouch that his daughter was knock-down gorgeous with a smile that melted even her daddy's frozen heart and a temper to match.

Don hadn't put two and two together until he saw Armando standing in the lab, looking extremely agitated.

_"Have you seen my daughter?" he demanded, his dark brown eyes resting on the younger man. Armando was around Don's height and built like a seasoned athlete with dark hair, olive skin, and dark brown eyes. One look at the man's fists and it should have been enough to send any potential suitor. Don had felt sorry for Armando's daughter. _

_"I didn't even know a woman was fool enough to have your kid," Danny joked next to him and was immediately silenced with a glare. That itself should have told Don to get the idea of him and Isabella out of his head right then and there. Shutting up Danny Messer was not an easy feat to do. "What's she look like?"_

_"Short, about five-two, small frame, long dark hair, blue eyes," Armando responded, looking around the lab. When the doors to the elevator opened, the first smile either detective had ever seen the tough FBI agent crack spread across his face. "Bambina! La mia dolce Isabella!" [Baby girl! My sweet Isabella!]_

_Don felt his stomach drop to the floor to see Isabella throw her arms around Armando's neck and be spun around like a little girl. _

_Shit._

Now, he was stuck. Just when he thought he figured out the finicky CSI, she bolted off and did something completely different. She was flighty, headstrong, and did things _her _way. Those personality traits alone should have told Don that she was Armando's daughter. Don knew he liked Isabella, but she was a determined little shit.

"You alright?" Denver Sandusky's voice pulled Don out of his thoughts. She looked up at him with her dark brown eyes, tucking a lock of dirty blonde hair behind her ear. "You look a little pissed."

"Your best friend's off being a pain in the ass again," he explained. Denver rolled her eyes with a snort.

"She's always being a pain in the ass," she returned. Don looked at her again.

"Then I have to ask how you put up with it," he stated.

"Simple. I just nod and agree with her. Usually, that's all you can do," she replied. "I love that girl, but she's just like her father. Flighty, headstrong, can't rein them in for nothing." It was fortunate that Don and Danny had both lucked out: they were dating two best friends. Well, Danny was dating a best friend, with Don now stuck in limbo with the other one. They had slept together for a few months now and he couldn't help but want more from her.

"That's the problem. I couldn't rein her in if my life depended on it."

* * *

"What do we got, Flack?" Isabella asked as she ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. The detective in question cast a rakish grin down at her, sending shivers rolling down her spine. This particular crime scene was in Central Park, which made her cringe. She honestly hoped a child hadn't found the dead man.

"Don't you ever wanna ask how I'm doing?" he asked with mock hurt. She laughed and bent down next to the victim, a young man seemingly in his early to mid twenties.

"Is that your way of saying you don't know who this guy is?" she returned. He shook his head. "Fine, Flack. How are you this fine winter's day?"

"I'm just fine, Pacino, how are you? See? We're conversing," he said. "Our victim is Draco Jones, twenty-five. He lives on the West Side."

Isabella set down a yellow marker next to a black leather wallet, picking up her camera. She snapped a few photos of it before she opened the wallet, scanning the cards. She found a student ID stating that Draco attended Chelsea University. "He goes to college," she commented.

"Your mom goes to college!" Officer Anderson retorted. She rolled her eyes.

"That was lame, Anderson," she informed him. Gregory Anderson was a short, lanky man with dirty blonde hair cropped in a 90's style and laughing brown eyes.

"Anything to make you smile, Blue Eyes," he replied. The sentiment made her cringe inwardly. The last person to call her that was Hayden Sandusky, her ex-boyfriend.

"Who found Jones?" she asked, changing the subject. She looked to see a young woman in jogging gear talking to a group of officers, holding an excited golden retriever by its pink collar.

"June Hastings. Says her dog broke off the leash and found Mr. Jones by the trail," Don answered, looking his memo pad. "You've been working with Mac too long, hope you know."

"I heard that," Mac informed him, holding his kit. "We expect Hawkes here soon. He's trying to direct the techs from the ME's office here."

"Well, the cause of death is probably clear. Exsanguination due to sharp force trauma to the jugular vein," Isabella offered, gesturing to the victim. "Supine position indicates body dump."

"You trying to do my job, Pacino?" she heard Sheldon tease as he walked on the scene.

"Somebody's gotta," she returned, standing up. He winked at her playfully before bending down next to Draco Jones. "But am I right?"

"When do you think time of death is?" he asked. "Since you're playing ME."

"Hey, I _have _done an autopsy before. Who do you think did it after Messer tossed his cookies in the nearest trash can after they brought in that decomposed victim?" she said. "I'll give you a hint: it wasn't Flack."

"Hey, I'm not in this, Short Stack. I resent being dragged into it," Don spoke up. Isabella grinned up at him and picked up her camera from around her neck.

"As long as you're on my side, I won't drag you into it," she promised. He started nodding and she rolled her eyes.

"Absolutely, babe. Anything for you," he told her, a sarcastic tint to his Queens lilt.

"You've talked to Denver, haven't you? I swear, you two are conspiring against me," she said with a shake of her head. Mac left to supervise the body being taken to the ME's van, Sheldon in tow.

"You left again last night," Don muttered next to her. Isabella sighed and set her camera back into her kit. The two of them had a complex relationship, if she could call it that. They slept together often, but liked to dodge labels and not talk about it. Up until a few nights ago, it had worked for them.

"Can we talk about this later? Later, as in not at work?" she requested. His frost-blue eyes darkened and she felt her face warm at his close-proximity. Her mind filled with images from last night.

"Well, this is the only time I get you alone," he pointed out. "Is it so bad that I wanna be more than just your fuck buddy?"

_Yes, because you're making me want things I shouldn't. You're making me want to trust again, _she thought as she flipped the hasps back home on her kit. She stood back up, fixing her coat.

"No, that's not a bad thing," she replied slowly. Isabella didn't want to let anyone else in after being abandoned by her ex-boyfriend, but Don was the exception.

He had always been the exception.


	2. Crashing

_**A/N: Okay, so thank you to all that reviewed and alerted this story. I know I post a lot of stories, then cut them later on, but it's only because I get all excited about writing something then I lose spark for it. This story, however, is gonna be a lot easier to write. Slight M rating for a bit of naughtiness, but not outright smut. Just groping, pretty much.**_

_**Chips: Aw, you're so sweet! Thank you for your kind words!**_

_**Rain: I had so much fun with that scene and you writing TOF makes it easier for me to write this lol**_

* * *

_Is this what love is all about?_

_Am I getting in too deep?_

_Wouldn't wanna freak you out_

_Make you a promise I can't keep_

_So close your eyes and hum along_

_And I'll sing you one more love song_

_If everything is still alright_

_Why don't you just crash here tonight?_

Toby Keith — Crash Here Tonight

* * *

"Need a little alcohol to drown your sorrows there, Flack?" Andy the bartender commented as he wiped the inside of a pint glass. Don shrugged, tipping his head back to suck down another shot of whiskey and he slammed the shot glass down on the counter. "She's gotta be a doozy if she's making you drink your fourth shot in an hour."

"Yeah, I guess," he muttered. He wanted to stop thinking about her. He wanted to stop hearing her voice when he was alone. He wanted to forget her. With every shot, her musical laugh died from his ears, her face a little blurrier in his memory. One thing the whiskey couldn't wash off was utter ecstasy of her breath on his skin. After an argument earlier, he needed something to take the edge off. "Hit me again."

Andy shook his bald head, sliding the shot glass away from him. "You're drunk and you need to sleep this off. Want me to call you a cab?" he asked. Don shook his head and stumbled off the bar stool. "You and I both know you can't walk when you're like this."

He didn't want a cab. He wanted Isabella, but she was most likely nuzzling the doctor Denver set her up with.

"I think I should go home," he replied. Don fumbled for his phone and dropped it on the floor. When he tripped to pick it up, he felt a strong hand on his arm. He looked up to see Andy holding on to his arm.

"You're drunk, Flack," Andy stated, helping the younger man to his feet.

"No shit," Don muttered, falling over. "Do me a favor and call me a cab."

* * *

The sound of her phone's shrill ringing caught Isabella's attention as she bolted upright in bed. She fumbled along her nightstand until she found the blue flip-phone in her fingertips. She snatched it up with irritation after squinting at the alarm clock on her nightstand. 2:13 glared back at her in blood-red digital numbers. Don's name flashed on the mini-screen on the phone.

"You'd better have a damn good explanation for calling me at two o'clock in the fucking morning," she growled sleepily.

_"Um, do I have the right number? I'm calling for a cab," _a completely different voice said. It was a man's voice, but the man wasn't Don. Isabella bolted upright in bed, rubbing her eyes furiously. Had she imagined Don's name on her phone? She pulled her phone away from her face to see his name and number on the screen.

"No, this is Detective Isabella Pacino. Why are you calling from Flack's number?" she asked. Her sleepiness dissipated slightly and she was more coherent.

_"Oh, I accidentally pressed the wrong number in his contact list. Sorry about that, Detective," _the man apologized.

"Is something wrong with Flack?" she queried, raking her dark hair out of her face. She heard Denver roll over next to her and she glanced down. After a bad fight with Danny, the two had burrowed under her covers for an impromptu girls' night and had fallen asleep.

_"He's at Sullivan's and he's had something of a rough time," _the voice answered. Now that Isabella was more coherent, she recognized Andy the bartender._  
_

"I'll scoop him up and take him home. Thanks for calling me, Andy," she told him and hung up the phone. She slid out from under her covers and slipped off her navy blue sweatpants off. She scrounged around on the floor for her jeans and found them halfway under her bed. She pulled them over her hips and buttoned them, zipping up the fly. "Den, I'm gonna be back later." She grabbed her black blazer and red ballet flats and slid them on, walking out the door.

If her best friend heard, she didn't say a thing.

Isabella opened the door to the bar about twenty minutes later and immediately scanned the room for her former lover. She saw Andy standing near a room that led to the back and nodded to him. Andy was a good man and he often did things like this for his customers. "You have something that might belong to me?" she uttered, placing her hands on her hips.

Andy gestured with a nod to the door. Isabella followed him to see Don sprawled out on one of the ratty couches with his head tilted back and snoring louder than a freight train. "Good luck," he told her.

She smirked in thanks and sat down near Don's head. "Donnie, wake up," she murmured, shaking him gently. Isabella patted his cheek until his eyes opened, bloodshot and weary. "Welcome back to the land of the awake, Sleeping Beauty," she said.

"What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at home, snuggled up with your _boyfriend_?" he spat.

"Well, I was at home, snuggled up in my bed with Denver because she had a fight with _her _boyfriend until I got a call saying you were having a rough time. I took it upon myself to get you home," she replied. She had grown used to his scathing words while drinking, particularly if he was angry with her. "Come on, I've got a cab waiting for us outside. I'll get you home and get something in you so you won't get hung over."

She felt his face under her breasts, nudging them teasingly with his mouth. "I'd like to get you home and get something in you," he commented. Isabella rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

"I'm sure you would," she replied patiently, shifting her body so his head was laying in her lap. He sat up, albeit sluggishly, and slumped over on her, his warm breath tickling her neck.

"Come on, baby, just one more time for old times' sake?" he murmured against her flesh. His hand slid up her stomach and found her breast, squeezing it gently. She had to bite her lip to keep her wits about her. "It'll just be between us. That doctor of yours won't even have to know."

"I went out with Rory once, he's not my boyfriend," she managed to say once she was able to think clearly. Don wasn't in his right state of mind, but his hands were doing things to her that were edging her out of hers. "Look, you're drunk. I'm going to take you home, get you hydrated so you're not hung over, then I'm going home."

Isabella moved his hand off her breast and turned her head from his wandering mouth. She shivered visibly and kicked herself inwardly when she felt him smile against her skin. "We're leaving now."

When they reached his apartment, it was a chore getting him focused. A drunk Don was one that was all hands. Isabella forced herself to keep herself in check against his advances. She wanted to give in to his kisses and caresses and murmured apologies.

"I'm sorry," he said again as she helped him in his bed.

"You've apologized all over yourself enough," she told him.

"Acting like an ass probably won't get me you," he remarked. "Thanks for getting me, though."

"You're welcome," she replied with a smile. He looked like he was about to say something, but he shut his mouth, his blue eyes glazed with exhaustion and bloodshot from the effects of alcohol. "What's wrong?"

"Stay here with me tonight," he requested. She sighed and glanced at the nightstand. It was nearly five in the morning. "It won't mean anything."

_Yes, it will, _she wanted to protest. Instead, she slipped off her flats and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Scoot over," she said.

* * *

Last night had hazy memories and thinking about it made Don's head hurt. The light pierced his eyes and he screwed up his face against it. Someone moved next to him and his heart dropped to his stomach. He turned over to see a head of dark hair on the pillow next to him. He smoothed a lock of it out of the woman's face to see a familiar face and breathed in relief. It was just Isabella.

Wait.

What the hell happened last night? Bolting upright was the opposite of helpful because it felt like a dozen elves were playing with jack hammers in his head. Don groaned in pain and gritted his teeth. He glanced down to see he was fully dressed. They hadn't slept together last night, so that was good.

"Don, quit making noise," Isabella murmured sleepily next to him. "I've only had about four hours of sleep and I'm not ready to cut myself off."

She had stayed overnight with him. Don stared at her in dumbfounded awe. What the hell did he say to convince her?

"What happened last night?" he asked her. Her head lifted and he saw her makeup-less face, her dark hair in disarray. She looked almost childlike without the gimmicks of cosmetics. He smoothed the locks out of her pretty face and saw the dark circles starting to mark her pale skin.

"You got drunk and passed out in Sullivan's. Andy called me accidentally while trying to get a cab and I brought you back here. I was almost delirious and you asked me to stay, so I did," she replied, rubbing her eyes.

He knew his drunk self. If he was trying to forget Isabella, he would have said lots of rude things.

"Did I do anything or say anything that I normally wouldn't say?" he queried. He braced himself for the answer. She looked reluctant for a moment and that answered his question. "How bad?"

"You groped me a few times and tried to get me to sleep with you 'for old times' sake'," she answered. Don slapped his forehead and winced at the pain from the action. "You were drunk, it's fine."

"I am so sorry," he declared, falling back on his pillow. "I feel horrible."

"You're not responsible for the things you do when you're drunk," she assured him. He watched her slide out of the bed, his eyes on the grey boy-shorts that hugged the curve of her firm ass. "I'll get you some water and some aspirin, but then I gotta go home."

"Isabella," he called. She looked at him over her shoulder as she pulled her dark wash jeans back on. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied.


	3. Trouble Thy Name Is Adam

**_A/N: Since I said this was an established Flack/OC story, I'm going to speed things up a bit c:_**

**_Rain: I love the idea, too! I had to add a bit of Sancino in it, even if it was just a squint. I'd like him groping me, too, but unfortunately, the situation was inappropriate, so Izzy couldn't really enjoy it!  
_**

**_I would love to hear from you guys...tell me what you think?  
_**

* * *

_I see your face, I keep hearing your voice  
_

_Holding my breath and remembering every choice  
_

_I made the choice  
_

_Now you've taken all the life from me  
_

_Reliving ancient history  
_

_I lie awake with echoes and whispers of you  
_

_I'm still haunted by you  
_

Cavo — Ghost

* * *

_"Flack, have you met the new girl?" Denver asked, nodding to a dark-haired woman. She couldn't be much more than five feet tall, her camera partially shrouding her features as she snapped pictures of the victim. She wore a pair of conservative black and gray pinstriped wide-leg trousers and a sleeveless white blouse, her hair tied back in a ladylike pony-tail. "Izzy, this is Detective Flack. Flack, this is Detective Isabella Pacino, Mac's new CSI from North Carolina." Denver said the name of the state like it was some sort of exotic country._

_Don shook Isabella's small hand. Mac had fired Adriana Suarez about three months earlier and had scrounged around to find her replacement. Sinclair had thrown CSI after CSI at Mac, which only made the stubborn former Marine determined to do it his way. Don had heard a bit about the new girl. According to one of the other detectives, she was some sort of child prodigy. She had graduated high school at fifteen and had a Bachelor's degree in forensics. Sinclair didn't want her because he felt she was too young._

_"Nice to meet you," she said._

Don had originally thought that she was a quiet woman, very non-confrontational until someone had called her and she had called someone else to chew them out. That should have also tipped him off to who her father was. He looked over at the petite woman, her small hands clasped together and over her mouth in thought.

"You alright?" he asked, his hand resting on her back. Isabella looked up at him and sighed, running her hands over her tired face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking," she replied. She opened her mouth to say something else, but got cut off by someone clearing their throat. Don dropped his hand from Isabella's back to see a smaller man around Danny's height. He had red hair, a beard, and blue eyes, his expression unsure. "Can I help you?"

"Are you Detective Pacino?" he asked. Isabella nodded and moved from around the light table. She extended her hand, her 'professional' smile on her face.

"Yes, that means you're Adam Ross, our new senior tech. Oh, we've been waiting for you. I'm so glad you're here!" she enthused. That was Isabella. Don felt sorry for this guy Adam if he ever pissed off Isabella. She was sweet as sugar until someone pissed her off. Then it was hell on Earth.

"That was probably the warmest welcome I've ever had," he commented. Don looked at Adam and shook his head.

"If I were you, I'd stay on her good side. Izzy's a powerful ally and she is one hell of an enemy," he informed him in a low voice. Adam's eyes stretched wide. "I know, she's small, but she'll fool ya."

"I heard that," Isabella called, stacking her papers on the light table. Don grinned down at her and she rolled her blue eyes. "Yeah, you'd better remember the 'powerful ally, one hell of an enemy' thing when Hazel comes around."

"You know I only have eyes for you, baby," he declared. She rolled her eyes again and tugged on Adam's arm to begin her tour.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she replied. "Excuse me while I go play Tour Guide Barbie for the new guy. I'm really not as bad as Flack says I am."

* * *

Isabella stood on the catwalk, scanning the people for someone who could help her. She found she liked Adam; he had a similar sense of humor to hers and they shared a mutual love of Panic! At the Disco and classic rock. Finally, she spotted a dirty blonde head walking toward the elevator. "Den!" she called. Denver turned around and waved. "Come here and help me with something!"

Denver stopped in her tracks, her chocolate-brown eyes wide. "Oh, my God," she stated. Isabella furrowed her brow in confusion and glanced over her shoulder to see the same dumbfounded expression on Adam's face. "Adam?!"

"Wait, you two know each other?" was all Isabella could ask. She immediately felt stupid for asking the obvious and her puzzlement only grew when she watched Adam and Denver hug each other fiercely. "Um, okay then."

"Izzy, this is Adam!" Denver introduced him eagerly. Isabella stared at her best friend skeptically. "No, Izzy, I mean _Adam _Adam."

Then it dawned on her. Denver's old college sweetheart.

"Oh, _that _Adam!" she said and mentally slapped her forehead. "I feel less like an idiot now." But her words fell on deaf ears as the two chattered excitedly to each other. This was the lightest mood Denver had been in for weeks.

"Well, Den, can you take care of his tour?" she asked. Now she knew what being the third wheel felt like. "I'm gonna make a quick run to the store, if you wanted to come with me." Nothing in return.

"Yeah, Iz, sounds good," Denver replied distractedly. Isabella arched her eyebrow.

"I was thinking we could go on horseback," she suggested. Denver nodded, her attention going back to Adam. "I was thinking I could wear a thong and sing 'I Feel Like A Woman' at the top of my lungs."

"Yeah, sounds good," was her answer. Adam eyed her strangely and Isabella turned around to see Don standing behind her.

"Oh, hello," she said. She knew she was blushing deeply by the flood of warmth that sprang to her face. His blue eyes were alight with amusement. "Yeah, I-I don't really know how I'm gonna walk away Scott-free here."

"I don't know either," he commented. "Just nod your head and thank your lucky stars that I was the one who caught the tail end of your conversation there, Third Wheel."

"Yeah, if it was Mac, I would've blushed clear to my toes," she replied, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. "But Denver's gonna be a while and I'm gonna go to the store around the corner. Wanna ride along?"

"Sure, I'm already off," he answered.

It was hard to relax and focus on where she was going with him so close. His fingers would brush hers now and then and occasionally they would catch each other's eye.

"Look, Izzy, we don't have to let things get awkward between us, do we?" he spoke up for the first time. She looked up at him, pursing her lips. They were outside the store now.

"You want something I thought I wasn't ready to give," she said. Isabella raked her hand through her loose hair and exhaled. "I thought I could swing being friends with you, but it's proving more difficult than I thought."

"You're thinking a lot," Don commented, pulling the door open for her.

"I know, because what we're doing is warranting some thought. We decided to cut our little arrangement because feelings were getting in the way. I broke it off with Danny because I wasn't reciprocating the feelings he was developing for me and I liked someone else. You broke it off with me because you had feelings for me and I wasn't in a place to do it," she explained. She still wasn't sure if she was ready for a relationship with him, but she was willing to try to work it out as she went along.

"And now?" he asked. They stopped near the beverage fridge and Isabella leaned against the glass, her eyes on his.

"I'm willing to try if you are," she replied. She played with a lock of her dark hair as she stared at the cans and bottles of soda until she felt a hand turn her face. "I'm serious." Her heartbeat quickened when his hand didn't leave her face.

His smile was boyish and did more to her self-control than she would care to admit.

"Good. Tawny was starting to get on my nerves," he said.

* * *

"And that is my story on how I decided to give your brother the boot once and for all and get a new boyfriend," Isabella said, her head on Denver's lap. She looked up at her best friend and grinned.

"Well, that's good. We're pretty lucky girls, you know," Denver commented. One of Isabella's favorite things was a scalp massage or someone brushing her hair. Currently, Denver was playing with Isabella's hair and it felt good to her. "We pulled off the impossible: we managed to tie down Flack and Danny."

"And the funny thing is, we just caught them at a time when they were passively thinking about it," Isabella replied. She glanced at the mail on the coffee table. "That's the mail?"

Denver handed her an envelope. "I got one just like it. It's the invite to the ball," she said. Isabella groaned as she tore in to it. It was a cream-colored invitation with gold, flowing italic letters. It was in the ballroom at a conference hotel on the Upper West Side, so they upgraded their standards.

"Damn New York Police Department. Why do they insist on dressing us up like little show dogs?" she complained.

"I dunno, but we're going. It's mandatory this year," Denver replied. Isabella sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "At least you can rub it in Tawny Hazel's face that you got Flack."

"True," she agreed. "But then I gotta get a dress...and figure out what to do with my hair. It's such a big headache."

"We'll figure something out," Denver told her. Isabella thought back to earlier in the lab and replayed the re-meet of Denver and Adam. She hadn't seen her best friend look at anyone the way she looked at her former flame, not even Danny. If Adam didn't step carefully, he would derail their relationship unknowingly.


	4. The Smack Down

_**A/N: There is a shortage of fluff. I am confident of such. And a smack-down.**_

_**Rain: I thought you might lol I love the Tour Guide Barbie thing too...I may have to use that more often. I couldn't think of a proper meeting, so I thought of that one on the fly. **_

* * *

_Hey, hey, you and me keep on dancing in the dark_

_It's been tearing me apart, never knowing what we are_

_Hey, hey, you and me keep on trying to play it cool_

_Now it's time to make a move and that's what I'm gonna do_

_Lay it all down, got something to say, lay it all down, throw your doubt away_

_Do or die now, step on to the plate, blow the door wide open, light up, up, and away_

_Let's light up the world tonight, you gotta give up the bark and bite_

Glee Cast — Light Up the World (My favorite original Glee song c:)

* * *

Don couldn't understand half of the garbled words that came out of his girlfriend's mouth, but two he understood loud and clear.

"Tractor-pull."

What in the hell tractor pulling was, he had no idea.

"No, don't put the hay in the equipment shed, you dingbat. It's gonna wake up Mother Theresa," she muttered, rolling on to her stomach. The black T-shirt he had lent her last night bunched up around her waist, exposing her white panties. Don stifled his laugh and slid out of bed.

"What in the hell is a tractor-pull?" he muttered.

"A popular sport in old times to test endurance of men. You attach a chain to the front of a tractor and try to pull it as far as you can," she popped off. He lifted a lock of her dark hair to see if she was sleeping. Judging by her little snore when she exhaled, it was a good reason to believe that she was.

"Oh. Good to know," he commented. Even in her sleep, his girlfriend was still a know-it-all. "Farm girls," he muttered.

"Hm?" she mumbled. Her sleepy blue eyes were half-open and she stretched out on her back.

"Just talking to myself," he replied, leaning over the bed to kiss her. She returned the kiss and sat up. "You talk in your sleep, you know."

She grinned sheepishly at him. "Yeah, I do. It's a curse, unfortunately."

"You're pretty weird, you know that?" he commented.

"You know life would be boring without me," she declared, swinging her legs to the other side of the bed and stood up. His shirt was horrendously big on her tiny body, but it was still massively hot to see.

"True," he conceded. He allowed his gaze to travel down the length of her slender, toned body. "What are you going to do for the ball in a few days?" _  
_

She shrugged and scrounged around on the floor for her jeans. "Try to find some rare disease to get infected with so I don't have the headache of finding a dress," she replied.

"You don't like wearing dresses?" he said, arching his eyebrow. In the three years Don had known Isabella, he had never seen her wear a dress, save for very few occasions.

"I have three older brothers and I grew up on a farm. My entire life, it's been like pulling teeth to get me in a skirt, let alone a dress. I don't like dresses," she responded.

"You could always rent one," he pointed out. She arched her brow.

"Every single female cop and wife of cop is gonna be doing the same thing. It's gonna be a fucking nightmare to get in a dress," she replied. Don grinned from his spot on the bed.

"Well, I have to get a tux," he pointed out. Isabella sighed dreamily.

"What lingerie is to men, tuxedos are to women," she said.

* * *

"Damn, I'd _love _to tap that," Henderson commented, licking his lips when Isabella walked away from Don's desk. "Please tell me you are not letting such a hot specimen of the female persuasion get stuck in the friend-zone."

As strong as the temptation was to boast about his luck in the sack with the most difficult woman on the force, Don held his tongue. "It's my business if I am," he replied.

"I wonder if she takes that take-no-shit attitude to the bedroom," Henderson wondered.

"I wonder if she stops being frigid enough to spread her legs," Thatcher piped up. Don set his jaw, setting his pen down as calmly as he could. He couldn't make comments because he knew they would get back to Isabella. They were keeping it quiet for now, to avoid drama. "What's the matter, Flack? You going all feminist on us?"

"He's not putting her in the friend-zone, she's putting _him _in there!" Henderson declared. Don rolled his eyes and stood up out of his chair. He needed an oral fixation to keep himself from losing his temper on his friends. That, and he was out of coffee. He stuck a swizzle stick in his mouth and chewed it angrily.

"Who's got you in a tizzy?" Angell asked with amusement from her place next to him. Don gritted his teeth and dumped a packet of sugar in his coffee.

"No one," he growled as he took the swizzle stick out of his mouth and stirred the drink. When the Styrofoam cup capsized, he let out a curse as hot coffee poured across the counter. "Can you get me some napkins?"

Angell handed them to him and helped pat up the mess. "Give it a few days and the guys will back off you. They're like old hens; once there's no gossip, they'll find their next victim," she advised. Don fought his snort. This newbie was giving _him _advice when she had barely worked there eight months.

"I'll keep that in mind," he muttered in irritation and walked away. He stuck the swizzle stick back in his mouth and he sat back down at his desk to continue paperwork. Recently, he had become meticulous in getting it finished in time. In his line of vision, he saw a white paper cup bearing the green Starbucks symbol being set down in front of him. He lifted his gaze to see Isabella standing in front of him.

"The coffee here sucks and Jimmy gave me a deal," she said finally. Don felt a smirk tug at his lips. Jimmy from Starbucks hadn't made his crush on her a secret, exactly. He wasn't at all surprised about the deal he had given her.

Don picked up the coffee and took a sip. "Thanks."

Her full lips turned up into a smile. "Don't mention it," she replied. Then her icy gaze flicked about the room. "And I do mean that in a literal sense."

* * *

"God, Den, I can never find a good dress!" Isabella lamented as she tried to pull up the zipper of a skin-tight ivory-colored mermaid-style dress. She looked like a ruffled tablecloth in the get-up and she moaned in frustration.

"Let me see the one the saleslady picked out," Denver called from the waiting area. Isabella lifted the skirt and opened the dressing room door. "Oh, I see what you mean. That dress so..."

Denver got cut off by the gushing saleslady. "Oh, honey, you look gorgeous! That dress was _made _for you!"

With a nearly six hundred-dollar price tag, Isabella could see why the sales rep was pushing the dress on her. She rolled her eyes.

"No, thank you. I'd like to see something else," she replied. The gray-haired woman insisted until Isabella held up her hands. "I said no."

The woman huffed and scurried off to find something else. grumbling something about difficult customers. Isabella smirked and shook her head.

"What do you think?" she asked, exaggerating a model's pose. Denver giggled from her seat on the comfortable-looking bench. "Is it me?"

"Hell, no, it's not you!" she declared. The saleslady came back with her arms full of dresses and ushered Isabella into the dressing room.

"This should do the trick!" she exclaimed, holding up a slinky black halter dress. Isabella's eyebrow raised in intrigue as she slipped it on. It was floor-length and backless, trimmed with rhinestone straps across the back and around the waist. The neckline plunged in a deep V and a slit ran clean up to her thigh, the skirt flowing around her hips.

"Ooh, I like," she said. It was her first grown-up dress, she would admit shamefully. Growing up, she had worn modest party dresses and nothing like this. "But I need my Stacy London out there."

She opened the door and lingered in the doorway. Denver's eyebrows rose and she nodded in approval.

"Well, _hello, _Detective!" she remarked. Isabella grinned and twirled around, the skirt of the dress flaring out.

"I feel so grown up in this!" she squealed. She stepped off the little pedestal, admiring the feel of the silk against her skin. "Sure isn't proper for a ball."

"Fuck them," Denver responded with a shrug.

* * *

Isabella knew she had walked into something tense when she saw Henderson being tossed on the ground. Her hand flew to her throat when she looked up to see her brother, Levi puffing in fury.

"Don't you _ever _talk about my sister like that again," he snarled. Her brother was a big man, standing around their father's height. Years of playing on the hockey team had given him a ripped physique; he could easily throw a man like Nick Henderson without much effort. "Or _any _woman."

"Levi, what in the world?" she murmured, stepping over the fallen officer and walking over to him. Levi held up a hand to silence her and she obeyed, pursing her lips. Her gaze darted around the room in disbelief. Henderson scrabbled to his feet, holding his chest.

"It was just talk," he wheezed out. Then Don walked in the room quickly.

"What the hell happened in here?" he demanded. Levi stormed toward Henderson, but Isabella gripped his shirt to hold him back.

"Lasciare," she told him. [Leave it]

"That sick son of a bitch was talking shit about my sister. Someone had to put him in his place," he insisted, lunging against her grip. It was difficult to keep the two men apart.

"You think you can walk around here like God's gift to the NYPD, just because of who your daddy is? Let me tell ya somethin' about your daddy, Pacinos. He was more trouble than he was worth, and he was worthless like his old man," Henderson snapped, rubbing his chest from where the younger man had thrown him. "Women don't got a spot here. All they're good for is spreading their legs to serve the working man."

Isabella spun around, her teeth clenching in fury.

"Isabella, leave it," Don told her. His voice was deathly low and precise, a tone she had never heard from him. "Henderson, don't cause any more trouble than you're worth, or else I'll have you moved to another precinct. You think you can come in here and say stupid shit like that just because you think it's your American right is not okay."

"Pacino, stand down," Scagnetti warned. Brother and sister both turned their heads towards the older man. "I was talking to the brother, little miss."

"You say another thing like that again, Henderson, and I'll gladly call up your sarge and let him know the kind of officer he's supposed to be supervising. You can mess around with the guys, but you cannot disrespect another cop," Don said hotly. Isabella relinquished her grip on her brother and Levi shook off the wrinkles.

"Oh, please, Flack. Don't play Peacemaker Bitch with us, you're no good at it," Henderson started. "These two put together ain't half the cop their old man was."

"And he's ten times the man you'll ever be!" Isabella shot back. Rage boiled in her veins and she could feel her self-control snapping. Don turned around to face her, his voice flat.

"Not helping," he told her. She crossed her arms over her chest, huffing.


	5. I Can't Go For That

_**A/N: Uh-oh...Melody, what do you have in store for this story? x.x**_

_**Rain: I loved writing it lol I giggled the entire time. Thatcher and Henderson are both assholes, I agree. **_

_**CSI: Here you go!**_

* * *

_The bitch is hungry, she needs to tell_

_So give her inches and feed her well_

_More days to come, new places to go_

_I've got to leave, it's time for a show_

The Scorpions — Rock You Like A Hurricane

* * *

Isabella played with the swizzle stick in her coffee cup in the interrogation room, crossing her left knee over her right leg. Internal Affairs was getting involved because of her brother's damned temper and now she was suffering for it because she got dragged into it. And Don, too. Levi had gotten his union attorney and was keeping his mouth shut. She grew annoyed with him but kept it to herself. Give Internal Affairs an inch and they'd take the fucking country. The door opened, revealing a young man in his twenties. He had closely cropped red hair and freckles across his pale face. It was Thomas O'Neill, the cop that was handling her.

"Detective Pacino," Detective O'Neill greeted her when he closed the door. He took his seat in the chair on the opposite side of the steel table, stacking papers in his file. "I must say, you're a lot easier to work with than your brother," he commented.

Isabella smiled wryly. She liked this guy already. "My boss and co-workers would contradict your statement," she responded. She set her coffee cup on the table and looked up at him. "I'd like to hurry and get this done, please. I have work to do back in the lab."

"I'd like to get this done as well, Detective Pacino, but all in good time. You're on my time schedule, not the other way around," he said lightly, setting down a gray tape recorder. The red light indicated that it was running. "Let the record show that Detective Isabella Pacino of the New York Crime Lab willingly came to speak to me, Detective Thomas O'Neill on this day. She is without a lawyer and is speaking for herself. She has a relaxed demeanor."

Isabella felt her lips twitch into a smile. She wanted to say hi to the recorder, if she was more brazen.

"Now, Detective, can you tell me what happened when you walked into the 12th yesterday?" O'Neill asked.

"I went into the precinct because I had to turn in my paperwork there, per Mac's order because I got done with my shift later than usual. I saw Henderson being tossed on the ground and my brother's out of breath," she answered.

"Your brother's Detective Armando Pacino the Fourth, correct?" he queried. She nodded and took another sip of her coffee. "You're going to have to use a vocal confirmation, Isabella."

"Yes, Detective Armando Pacino the Fourth is my brother," she confirmed.

"What did he say to Officer Henderson?"

"He said, 'Don't you ever talk about my sister like that again, or any woman.'," she replied.

"Do you know what Officer Henderson said about you to provoke Detective Pacino?" he asked.

"No, I do not," she answered. O'Neill nodded and jotted it down.

"Now, what happened after that?"

Isabella twisted her mouth in thought as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "Well, I asked what was going on and Detective Flack came into the room, wanting to know the same thing."

"And then?"

"My brother said that Henderson was saying things about me and someone needed to put him in his place. Then Henderson said things he shouldn't, which pissed off Levi and me," she replied vaguely. Even if she worked in the crime lab, she was still a part of the same brotherhood her father was a part of. There were certain codes she needed to uphold and a cop didn't rat out a fellow cop, even if that fellow cop was a misogynistic son of a bitch.

"What do you mean when he said he said things he shouldn't?" O'Neill asked, leaning forward in his seat and fixing the smaller detective with golden brown eyes.

"I'm not gonna rat him out, no matter what he said," Isabella responded and downed the rest of her coffee. She shook the cup a little and tossed it into the trashcan in the corner of the room.

"Then what happened after that?" he asked, clearly annoyed he wasn't getting any more information from her about the argument.

"I opened my mouth to say something, Detective Flack cut me off and told me to leave it alone. He then gave Henderson a warning and Henderson told him to stop playing peacemaker," she replied.

* * *

Isabella slammed her head on her brother's desk, her dark hair falling in her face. "I hate Internal Affairs," she announced.

"Believe me, I'm right there with you, Iz," Levi replied. She glared up at him icily.

"Well, it's your fault we're in this mess," she reminded him. "You, me, Henderson, John, Flack..."

"Technically, it's yours, short-stack," John stated. "Henderson was talking shit about _you_, not Levi."

"And the other Pacino overreacted. People are gonna talk about me, but Henderson went too far when he dragged Daddy into this. That wasn't fair," Isabella retorted. "So, if I'm gonna be blamed for being alive, I'll take all y'all down with me, don't think I won't."

"Pardon me for being a good brother," Levi snorted from his seat next to her. Isabella turned her attention to him and rolled her eyes.

"Yes, God forbid," she remarked dryly. She lifted her head and rested it back down on the desk. "I wanna go back to the lab and hide in the world of forensics. I'm needed there at the lab, but no, I'm here because of my brother."

"Love you, too, Bells," he replied sarcastically. Isabella sat up and smoothed her hair out of her face. Her gaze lifted when Don came out of the Interrogation looking annoyed.

"Donovan lives to bust my ass," he declared. She felt her phone vibrate and she looked down to see Mac's name on her screen.

"Shit, now Mac's gonna bust mine," she muttered and flipped it open. "Hey, Mac."

_"Why do I have to hear from Flack that you got involved in an argument between two cops?" _he demanded. _"And one of those cops was even your brother! I asked you when I hired you if it was gonna be a problem working with Levi and you said it wasn't."_

"Because it wasn't a problem. It wasn't a problem between me and Levi, it was a problem between Levi and someone else. I already talked to Internal Affairs and gave my side of the story," she assured him. "They're going to clear me soon, they just got done with Flack. I'll be back at the lab and I'll continue doing my job."

_"Good. If something happens to one of my investigators, I want to hear from said CSI, not a third-party!" _Mac informed her. The line disconnected and Isabella snapped her phone shut. She looked up at Don, clenching her jaw in irritation.

"I thought he knew," he defended, holding up his hands. She set her phone back in her holster and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"No, it's fine. I was gonna tell him when this all blew over," she assured him. Levi's jaw dropped indignantly.

"Wait, I defend your honor and I get my head bitten off. Flack tells your boss about being called in by Internal Affairs and he gets a 'oh, it's fine'? What the _hell, _Iz?" he protested. Isabella waved him off before leaning on the edge of his desk.

"You got me called in by Internal Affairs," she reminded him, pointing at her brother with her index finger. "That's more than enough to make my inner bitch come out and play."

* * *

"Henderson called me half a man...I remember when that little punk first graduated the academy. Now he's thinking he's hot shit because he finally got those complaints cleared off his record and he's able to take his detectives' exam? Then he talks shit about _my _daughter and gets a slap on the wrist, even though he provoked my son. I swear, those pricks in Internal Affairs got something shoved up their asses," Armando went off in the car. Isabella sat quietly in the passenger seat, playing with the hem of her red plaid blouse.

"I told you more than I told them," she pointed out. "So let's keep that between us, okay?"

"You tell me more than you tell them because you know better than to rat out a fellow cop. You're damn better than Flack, that's for sure. I'd hate to see the new asshole his old man ripped into him," he remarked. Her temper flared and she gritted her teeth. Dean Truby killed someone and Don helped turn him in. That didn't make him a rat, it made him a respectable cop. "It just goes to show you can't make young guns supervisors. They'll crack under the pressure."

"I'm really offended, Daddy," she informed him after a few minutes of awkward stillness. "Dean Truby committed murder after he stole purple cocaine from a crime scene. Mac nearly had to subpoena the log book from Flack to get Truby's name. He does a great job supervising those detectives and he gets shit brought down on him for something his detective did. It's not his job to hover and babysit. Truby was a dirty cop and that was _not _Flack's fault."

Armando was silent for the first time in a long time. He scratched his dark head and laughed low in his throat. "You've got a point, hon. Everyone's out for themselves in that place. Your brother did a good thing when he stuck up for you. Being a Pacino is a catch-22. You either get pressure brought down on you 'cause you're my kid or because of our heritage."

Isabella looked up at her father and let out a deep breath. "You had to do it all on your own. Your heritage was all you had and you turned your back on your family to do what you knew was right. I got it easy; I'm in the lab more often than not."

"There's nothing wrong with that. I'm glad you got it easy, kiddo, because you need it easy for once in your life. After your ma and I got divorced, you had to go from girl to grownup overnight. You should have gone to movies and hanging out with your friends, not helping to run a ranch," he said, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Then when Rossi got a hold of you..."

The Rossi crime family had kidnapped her when she was fifteen to get back at the Pacino family and start a turf war. It taught Isabella a lesson she would never forget.

Just because you quit the game doesn't mean the game quits altogether.


	6. Isn't This Narnia?

**_A/N: I like fluff C: Let's have some of that...Melody concurs C: _**

**_Rain: They piss me off, too! I loved writing that little scene...it made me giggle the entire time!  
_**

* * *

_His eyes light up and I melt within  
_

_Feels so good, it must be a sin  
_

_I can't stop what I've started, I'm giving in  
_

_He brings life to my fantasies, sparks a passion inside of me  
_

_Finds the words when I cannot speak  
_

_In the silence, his heartbeat is music to me  
_

_Mama to warn me not to rush love with another  
_

_She says "I'm not trying to lecture, I just care about my daughter"  
_

_Ay, Mama, you seem to forget, I never would let a man control my emotions  
_

_When he smiles, I feel like a little child  
_

Christina Aguilera — Infatuation

* * *

"There's no way you're gonna make this shot, short-stack," Scagnetti stated from the other side of the table. Isabella glanced up at him before gripping the pool cue tighter and taking her shot. The cue shot forward, striking the cue ball into the eleven ball and nailing it into the corner pocket, the thirteen in close pursuit. "Damn, I might be out another twenty bucks."

"Should have known better than to bet against a Pacino, John," she remarked before pointing the cue towards the eight ball. "Because I might be the one to wrap up this game with a mighty pretty bow."

She looked over at Levi, who shrugged. "I still don't know how you got into this mess, man."

"I made him an offer he couldn't refuse," she deadpanned. Her brother nearly spat out his beer in laughter.

"Please tell me you did not just say that," he spluttered through his snickers. She simply grinned at him before pointing the cue towards the eight ball again.

"Left corner pocket," she said and took her shot. It bounced off the side and stayed right by the right pocket. The detectives watching the game let out a groan. Isabella straightened and watched Scagnetti lean over the table to take his shot. Her mouth twisted in thought as she paced the table to watch the cue ball. "Right corner pocket." She lifted the pool cue and lined up for her shot. The cue slid back and forth between the little 'v' she made with the thumb and index finger of her right hand and sent it forth, hitting the ball and shooting it into the hole. "Game, set, match. How's it feel to get your ass kicked by a girl, Scagnetti?"

"Yeah, you are Manny's daughter, ain't 'cha, short-stack?" he remarked, setting his pool cue in the holder. "Fucking shark, that's what you are."

"Damn straight," Isabella responded, accepting the twenty-dollar bill. She took the other shot from Denver and downed it, slamming the glass on the counter. "Just like my liquor."

"And you were saying you didn't look good in a dress?" a familiar voice commented. She looked over her shoulder to see Don appraising her dark red body-con dress that fit to her body like a second skin, a black crotchet collar sliding up around her neck like a halter. Her skin prickled under his stare and she felt her knees shake a little. What was the effect this man had on her?

"Never said I didn't. Just that I didn't like to," she returned as she played with a lock of her dark hair. She hopped up into a chair and crossed her legs. Even though he flirted with her in public often, his words still made her blush a little. Anyone who thought she was blushing would write it off from the whiskey. "Looking good yourself, Flack." He wore a gun-metal gray button-down shirt with a pair of loose-fitting jeans, his dark hair slightly unkempt.

"Heard it through the grapevine that you've cleaned up our boys in blue," Don said, leaning against the table. Isabella smirked and ran her index finger around the rim of her margarita glass.

"Manny's little girl is a fucking shark, Flack. Don't challenge her in pool," Scagnetti grumbled. The fucking shark in question grinned at him brightly.

"I only cleaned him outta twenty bucks. He's just sore about it 'cause his pride's hurt," she declared. "He started it by saying pool's a boy's game."

She took a sip of her margarita and plucked the skewer of fruit out of it, pulling the maraschino cherry off with her teeth and bit down. "Then he proceeded to order me a chick drink."

"You're drinking it," Scagnetti pointed out. She rolled her eyes and bit down on the mango chunk.

"Honey, you know I don't waste perfectly good booze," she drawled. Then the stench hit her and she nearly gagged. Coconut. Denver was sitting next to her, sipping a piña colada.

"You okay?" she asked. Isabella nodded, then covered her nose and mouth with her hand. She was allergic to the flesh of the coconut; she could handle the milk and the oil just fine, but the white part of the coconut made her break out in hives and made her throat swell. Denver's chocolate-brown eyes dropped to her drink and widened. "Shit, I forgot you're allergic. Hold on, let me move."

"No, you're fine. The smell's a little overpowering, but it's fine," Isabella assured her. She took another sip of her drink and tried to breathe through her mouth to keep from gagging. Denver was staring at her and Isabella noticed the hand on her lower back. Don was standing rigidly next to her, his jaw tense. She followed his gaze to see Henderson walking towards her, albeit apprehensively. "It's fine," she murmured to Don before sliding his hand off her back.

"I said some very out of line things about you and your father and I want to apologize to you and your brother," Henderson said, running his hand through his dark hair. His brown eyes flickered about the room and he tensed when Don and Scagnetti both moved closer to Isabella and Levi. "You don't have to forgive me, but I just came to say my piece."

"Apologize to my sister for saying those things and I'll consider forgiveness," Levi informed him harshly. Her brother wasn't a very tall man, but he was damn intimidating when he wanted. He stood in front of Isabella and she couldn't see his face. Isabella rested her hand on her brother's broad shoulder and she stepped down from her seat to placate him. Levi shrugged her hand off. "I guess he doesn't want to."

"Isabella, I've said some bad things to you and about you," Henderson started to say before Scagnetti snorted.

"Hell, yeah, he has," he muttered. Isabella glanced at him to silence him and nodded to Henderson to continue.

"You've been sorta cool to me when no one else is and I'm sorry I said those things to you and about you. You don't deserve it; no one does," he finished. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and bit his lip. "We cool?"

She could feel every eye on her and she nodded. "No harm done," she confirmed.

* * *

Isabella glanced through the magnifying glass on the jacket of Draco Jones. She moved it around under the slide to get a closer look and flicked the light brighter. Music blared from the speakers in the lab and she glanced away to write her findings. Banishing someone to Trace was Mac's favorite form of punishment, but Isabella had never really minded it. She could hear someone moving along behind her and she set down her pencil.

"If you're Stella or Denver, I could really use the help in processing the other clothing," she called from the light table. She looked over her shoulder to see Don holding up a takeout bag. "Aw, you brought me food."

"It's two in the afternoon and I figured you hadn't eaten yet. Not with Mac breathing down your neck to continue working on this case," he said. She grinned up at him and rifled through the drawers to pull out a pair of tweezers. "What you got there?"

"Some sort of plant DNA. I don't know if EDNA has it or what, but I got one chance and I don't wanna risk Mass-Spec ruining the sample. The defense would have a field day in court with that one," she responded and plucked the leaf from the heather gray material with the tweezers. "Let me finish this sample, then I'm all yours."

"I'd get this while it's hot, short-stack. I also didn't want to subject you to that health code violation this building calls a mess hall," he commented. She set the sample on a slide and slid it into EDNA's sample library and pointed to Kendall. Isabella would have rather it be Satan himself than Kendall, but beggars couldn't be choosers at this point.

"Let me know when it's done being analyzed," she told her. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes." She folded the jacket and slid it back into the evidence box and taped it shut again, signing her name on the clipboard. "Walk with me to the evidence locker?"

"I think I can fight off the bad guys along the way," Don returned. She felt her face warm and her skin prickled at his closeness.

"Oh, my hero," she teased and slipped off her lab-coat. Isabella balanced the evidence box on her hip as she reached up to hang it on the hanger. "What did you get me?"

"You'll see when we get there," he replied cryptically. She rolled her eyes and punched in the code to the evidence locker.

"Can't do any better than that?" she remarked as she shifted to move the box up on the high shelf. "Help me with that, won't you, dear?" She reached on the toes of her black high-heeled boots and struggled to move it higher. Heels weren't usually practical for the field, but they were fine for the lab. There was a lot of sitting around and waiting for results before jetting off to deliver them to Stella. Don picked up the box from her struggling fingers and slid it back. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, can we eat lunch before it gets cold?" he requested. Isabella nodded and stripped off her latex gloves. She tossed them into the trash can and shut off the light in the locker room.

* * *

He peppered kisses along her collarbone, his hands bunching at the aquamarine top and sliding it up to expose the silky skin of her lower back. Her head tilted backwards, her fingers digging into his shoulders through his black suit jacket and white dress shirt.

"We're on break, not off the clock. We can't really do much," Isabella murmured into Don's ear as he continued his merciless assault on her skin. The more she continued her mantra of keeping in control, he wasn't making it easy on her. Don knew exactly where to kiss or touch to make her writhe under him.

"I can do enough," he muttered against her skin. His mouth dipped lower to kiss along her chest and she gripped his shoulders tighter as a gasp emitted from her throat. When his greedy mouth met hers, she pressed herself tighter against him to smother her noises. A broom closet wasn't the best time or place for a post-lunch hookup and Isabella was forced to pull away when she heard her phone ring. Her head fell back against the wall and she slipped it out of her pocket. Armando.

"Hi, Daddy," she said a little breathlessly. She raked a hand through her dark hair as if he could see her. "What's up?"

_"I'm at the lab and I can't seem to find you," _he remarked. Don bit down on her neck and Isabella forced herself to keep her mouth shut as she nodded.

"That's because I'm not exactly there. I'm near the evidence locker," she replied, then kicked herself. Armando was the type to follow her to find her and was most likely on his way now. "But...it's a secret." Don's tongue traced around the bite tenderly and she tried to bite back her moan as his hand kneaded at her breast through the silky material of her shirt.

_"You sound like you're in pain. Are you okay?" _Armando asked suspiciously. Isabella snorted and slapped Don in the stomach.

"Psh, I'm fine. Let me see if I can find you," she replied. She snapped her phone shut and glared at her boyfriend. "That was my _dad _on the phone. You're the one scared shitless by the man. He finds out you were trying to get to second base, he'd probably maul you."

Don pointed to the little bite marks on his neck. "And if Daddy finds out his little girl's not exactly so innocent anymore, he might turn on you, Princess. And I didn't _try _to get to second base, I succeeded in it, by the way."

Isabella opened the door to see her father standing on the other side. His dark brown eyes met her blues and she grinned sheepishly up at him. "Holy shit, was that not Narnia?" she squeaked.


	7. From Balls to Penthouses

_**A/N: To make up for lack of chapters in this story, M-rated chapter because I feel guilty. **_

_**Rain: Glad you liked it lol. **_

_**Somebody: Thanks!**_

* * *

_Well, he must have been a looker  
A smooth-talking son of a gun  
For such a grounded girl to just up and run  
'Course, you can't fence time  
And you can't stop love_

Sara Evans — Suds in the Bucket

* * *

Armando should have known Don Flack was trouble from the minute he heard the name. Donald Senior was a tough son of a bitch by himself. Now his son was in the midst of romancing Isabella. What made it even worse was that the boy was the spitting-image of his old man. It felt like some sort of ironic curse. Armando had his fair share of women back in the day.

"A real heart-breaker," his mother would declare.

Now his only daughter was dating the same kind of man he was. Women at the FBI would talk about the handsome Don Flack with his 'innocent' blue eyes and boyish charm and gush about how funny he was.

Isabella was innocent and down-to-earth. She was the homegrown girl-next-door that you would bring home to meet your mother.

"What exactly did you want with me, Pacino?" Flack asked, sitting in front of him. Armando glared at the younger man, his jaw setting.

"It's not what I want with you, it's what you want with my daughter," he replied. Flack was quiet as he stared at the chrome napkin dispenser to his right.

"Oh," he said. He went back to silence. "Look, I know I don't have that great of a track record..."

"You're damn right you don't," Armando interrupted. Flack gave him a look before continuing.

"But I care about Isabella, alright? She isn't like anyone else I've ever met. Ever since Hayden cheated on her, she's been gun-shy about dating. It took a lot of convincing to get her to date me and I'm not gonna make her regret that decision," he finished. "What she and I did earlier may have contradicted that."

Armando looked out of the window of the diner to see his daughter standing apprehensively outside. He could tell she was trying to act nonchalant while talking on her cellphone. To him, she would always be the spunky, headstrong little girl who would look up at him with those big blue eyes and call him Daddy.

"Well, if this isn't karma biting me in the ass," he muttered. He'd screwed over woman after woman and had six kids, including Levi and Isabella, that he knew of. He looked over to see Flack watching her as well. Armando couldn't explain what he saw in the detective's eyes as they watched her. "Let me tell ya something, Flack. That woman is my only daughter and she's my entire world."

"Likewise on the latter, sir," Flack added.

"You do absolutely anything to break her heart or hurt her, you can bet your smooth-talking ass that they will never find your body. I swear on everything I hold dear that I will kill you if anything bad happens to her that you cause. Got it?" Armando said.

Flack laughed and shook his head. "Kinda makes me feel like I'm making a deal with the devil, but yeah, I hear you loud and clear."

* * *

The ball was a swanky affair, as usual. There was a huge crystal chandelier hanging overhead, illuminating the gold-painted ballroom. Waiters in suits passed out flutes of champagne and everyone wore their very best. Isabella had selected a strap-less plum-colored floor-length gown with a white beaded sash under the bust, a sweetheart neckline and a slit that ran up the front of her dress and ended mid-thigh.

The black tuxedo Don wore was making her pant. It fit snugly to his muscular frame and mixed with his cologne, she could barely keep her hands from him.

"I think it's a good idea that we met here. I don't think we would have arrived otherwise," he commented low in her ear, his hot breath tickling her skin. A shiver ran down her spine and she picked up a flute of champagne, putting it to her lips and tossing her head back to down it. "Have I told you how beautiful you look?"

"Mm, I think you mentioned something about that when you saw me and before you planted one on me in front of everyone and their mother," she replied, her arms slithering around his neck and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "And I'm pretty sure I've mentioned how handsome you look in this tux."

"Actions speak louder than words and you haven't kept your hands to yourself," he remarked. His lips touched hers once more and she bit her lip.

"What lingerie is to men, tuxedos are to women," she quipped. He rested his hands on the curve of her waist and she turned to set the empty champagne flute on a table. "So, I'm thinking we stay another hour before skipping out to my place. I have it on good authority that Denver's staying at Danny's tonight."

Isabella turned to wink at Denver slow-dancing with Danny. Her best friend changed a knowing look on her pretty face. She wore a midnight blue halter floor-length dress that showed off a good expanse of her dress with crystal embellishments along the bust and along the empire waist.

"Tempting, Izzy, not gonna lie, but if Gerard doesn't see me, he's gonna know something's up," he replied. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Curls flopped in her eyes and she blew out to blow them away.

Her phone chirped in her little black clutch and she opened it to answer. Adam.

"Hey, Adam, what's up?" she asked. There was babbling and stuttering on the other line. "Adam, I can't understand you when you ramble. What's up?"

_"Okay, so I ran the print we found on the murder weapon at Draco Jones's dorm room and it came back to Hector Rossi. It turns out Draco Jones is Hector's illegitimate son and he kidnapped you when you were fifteen, right?" _Adam asked. Isabella glanced over her shoulder and moved away from the chattering party. She gave Angell a cursory smile before slipping into the ladies' room.

"How did you find out about that?" she asked in a low voice.

_"I did a background check on him. He got arrested in 1994 for felony kidnapping and ransom. I looked to see who he kidnapped and your name came up," _he explained. _"But that's not the worst part. The worst part is that Hector Rossi is on the move."_

She stared numbly at her reflection in the gold-rimmed mirror of the fancy bathroom.

_"It says here in his statement that he was off to start a turf war and he was going to have an absolute bloodbath, Isabella," _he fretted.

"Adam, let me call you right back, I have a beep. Try not to have a panic attack until I get back," she told him before switching the lines. "Daddy?"

_"Isabella, this is your grandfather," _Nonno said. _"I'm in the country and I need you to get out of the Plaza Hotel, get the detective named Denver, and go to the safe house I have. Do not go home, I will send for someone to collect your things."_

Her grandfather's tone was deathly serious.

_"Do it while you're on the phone with me, so I can hear."_

She left the bathroom and searched for Denver in the crowd. It was ironic that someone could slip past and something could happen to them in a room full of cops. Hector Rossi had balls, that was for sure.

Isabella spotted her talking to Danny and she sidled up to her best friend, smoothly slipping her arm into the taller woman's. "Hey, Den, come here really quick. My nonno's on the phone and he wanted to say hi," she said. It was hard as hell to keep her voice light when she knew her knees were trembling.

_"Good, don't get her too scared," _Nonno approved. Isabella locked gazes with Danny and she squirreled Denver away to a corner.

"Why did you have to pull me away from Danny to talk to your grandfather? Couldn't it have waited?" Denver asked in irritation. Isabella pressed the phone's speaker button and held it up.

"Go ahead, Nonno," she told him.

* * *

"Ugh, I can't believe we have to go to a fucking _safe house_," Denver complained as she kicked off her midnight blue slingback high heels. Isabella set her silver heels in the closet of the penthouse. Nonno loved the high life and had a penthouse in Sutton Place, as well as one in Park Avenue. He'd sent them to the one in Park Avenue. The sprawling space was a whopping seven thousand square feet (Armando Pacino the Second simply adored his privacy when he was in the city) with five massive bedrooms, five bathrooms, a formal living room, a formal dining room, a library, and a wine cellar. The place had been intensely renovated over the past decade. "At least your grandfather doesn't skimp."

"Absolutely not! He had his maid stock the kitchen for our impending arrival," Isabella quipped as she pawed through the cedar cabinets. She didn't like the food served at the party. While she'd been raised in high society in high-profile horse breeding and cattle ranching, foods like caviar and crab-stuffed mushroom caps were too rich for her red blood. "Being the only granddaughter of a mobster has its perks, I'll tell you what." She looked over to see Denver holding up a wire-framed photo.

"Is this you?" she asked, turning the picture around. It was a six-year-old Isabella dressed in show gear and mounted on Old Sarge, her mother's favorite gray gelding.

"Yeah, that's me and Old Sarge," Isabella replied, touching the glass from the frame. "Rodeo of 1985, I won Little Miss Rodeo Queen."

"Aw, you were so cute," Denver commented. She set the picture back on the white granite counter-top. Isabella pulled down a box of brown sugar-cinnamon Pop-Tarts and tore open the foil package, hopping on to a stool, swinging her bare feet. How often had she done this in the past? When she was younger, she loved spending her summers with Nonno in New York. She offered one of the frosted pastries to her best friend. "Got any wine to go with that?"

"You know I got you covered," Isabella responded, hopping down from the stool. "My grandfather's legitimate business in Italy are his vineyards and wineries, and it's really good wine." She made her way to the wine cellar and scanned the bottles of wine. The Pacino brand was famous in Tuscany, where her father's side of the family was from.

She finally selected a Chianti dessert wine and plucked two glasses from their little rack. Wines today were made with a synthetic cork so wine collectors didn't have to store them upside down.

"I also found some angel food cake in the little display thing!" Denver called. Isabella pulled up her skirt to hop up the worn wooden stairs, closing the door securely behind her.

"Try some of the Pacino Chianti," she suggested. She pulled the cork out and poured it into the glasses, swinging her bare feet from the white cushioned stool. The door to the penthouse opened and she saw her Zio Antonio. "Zio."

"Isabella," he addressed her. He set down luggage decorated with Louis Vuitton symbols just inside the door. "I managed to find the luggage your aunt and I bought you for Christmas." His dark brown eyes rested on Denver and his jaw tightened. "The issue with Hector Rossi will be resolved."

"Let Mac take care of him," she told him. Antonio glanced from his niece to her friend and set down the other suitcase. "Yes, you can keep me and Den safe, but you can't play mob vigilante."

"Whatever you say," he replied, shaking his head as he slammed the door shut. Isabella rolled her eyes and opened the suitcase. There was a pair of sweatpants and a white tank top sitting on top of the pile of clothes. Clearly, her Zia Serena had packed this. Isabella recognized the style of folding. Instead of folding it lengthwise and folding it like Isabella did, the folding style had the shirts with the logos out.

"Your uncle seems nice," Denver commented sarcastically. She walked into the living room, the plush carpet masking the sound of her footsteps. "This place is gorgeous."

"For a hefty twenty-five million dollar price-tag, it can be yours," Isabella announced, spinning around the room. She pulled the sweatpants, tank top, and a pair of black socks with neon green toes and heels. "Excuse me while I go change."

Her old room had been renovated as well, but still had that special quality she'd loved. It was huge, with a massive California king-sized bed with four posters in the middle. Antique furniture decorated the room, strategically placed to make the room seem even larger. The walls were painted a garnet-red with white trim, photos of Isabella and her half-siblings hanging on the walls. She felt even smaller than before. She tossed the clothes on the pristine comforter and unzipped the gown. In her fancy dress, she'd blended right in. Now, standing in her sweats, she felt so hilariously out-of-place.

Earlier tonight, she'd been looking forward to going home and cuddling up to Don. Now Isabella wasn't so sure how he was doing. She picked up her phone to see five missed calls and thirteen text messages from him. He cared.

The thought made her heart soar. She called him back.

_"Where the hell are you? I turned around and you were gone. I had Adam track your phone and you're on Park Avenue. What are you doing there?" _he asked.

"I'm at my grandfather's penthouse. Don't worry, I'm okay. I'm in a huge penthouse stocked with goodies and I've got Denver. We'll be fine," she assured him. Then she heard glass breaking and someone shrieking her name.

"Izzy!"

She bolted out of her room, tugging her tank top down over her stomach. Denver's hands were over her mouth as a shattered wineglass lay on the floor.

"Your grandfather's gonna kill me, I'm so sorry!" she apologized, scrounging for a broom. Isabella pulled it out of the closet with a roll of her eyes.

"Go get on your pajamas, I'll take care of it," she told her, shooing her off.

_"What happened? Is everything okay?" _Don demanded. _"I don't like that you didn't tell me you're in danger. I had to hear it from _Adam _of all people." _

"Everything's fine. Den just had a case of butterfingers and dropped a dollar store wineglass," Isabella replied. She waited until Denver left the room before using what he called her 'sex voice.' "You know, I kinda wish you were here. I'm gonna be sleeping in this big ole bed all by my lonesome."

_"I highly doubt a mobster/wine tycoon would like finding out that an Irish cop defiled his only granddaughter in his penthouse because said granddaughter got lonely and wanted a booty call from said Irish cop," _he commented.

"Not even if the bed's a California king with twelve-hundred thread count Italian cotton sheets on a pillow-top mattress?" she said innocently. "Besides, Nonno's rarely even here. He only keeps this place as a safe house and I know I'd feel safer with you here."

_"Seriously, don't do that to me. You have no idea what that voice does to me," _he groaned. She felt a wicked smile flicker on her lips and she leaned against the counter.

"Oh, really, now?" she purred. Isabella wagged her hips around as she took a sip of her wine. She set it back down, fighting a smile. The temptation was nearly too good to pass up. "You know I hate to leave things unfinished."

_"You're awful, you know that?" _he said. She giggled.

"I've heard rumors," she returned. "Seriously, I miss you. We've barely had any alone time lately."

_"I know, baby," _he replied. _"Believe me, I know."_

Then she heard a knock on her door and she crossed the open-concept kitchen to the front door, carefully minding any tiny slivers left from the wineglass. Isabella glanced through the peephole to see a finger over the viewfinder.

"Stay on the phone with me, someone's at the door and I can't see who it is," she told him. Then she heard her voice echo in the phone and she opened the door to see him leaning against the door frame. Dressed in the tuxedo from before. "How'd you get past security?"

He opened the jacket of the tuxedo to show his gold-plated badge clipped to his belt. "They saw the badge and let me through," he replied.

Her arms slithered around his neck, pulling him into the penthouse. "Lucky for me," she murmured, her mouth flickering over his.

"Oh, ew, get a room, you two!" Denver called. She paused between bites of the angel food cake. "Wait, I take that back."

"I'll sneak him out in the morning," Isabella singsonged, her fingers intertwining with Don's. "And I can't promise he'll be in one piece."

* * *

Don pulled her white tank top over her head and dropped it on the floor, his mouth crashing on hers. Isabella tossed his tuxedo jacket on the floor, her fingers undoing his bow-tie to join the jacket. His quick fingers pulled the drawstring on the heather gray sweatpants and peeled them off her frame to expose a tiny white thong that left nothing to his imagination. This must have been the little something-something she'd been talking about when she'd described the dress to him. He reached behind her to unhook the white lace bra and removed it from her breasts.

His thumbs circled her nipples until they stiffened into peaks under his touch. He kissed along her pale neck, reveling in the whimpers she unleashed. His hands smoothed along her toned ass and he hooked his fingers in the waistband of the thong and drew it down her body, leaving her exposed to his wandering eyes. She cupped his erection through his pants and his hips arched forward instinctively.

It was easy to lift her up and lay her on the bed. She was right about the bed. It sank silently under their weight and she helped him shuck his remaining clothes. Isabella leaned back and Don parted her thighs to enter her. She tightened around his length, hugging him firmly inside her supple body. Her legs hitched around his hips and he began to thrust into her slowly at first. She was more than ready for him, he could feel the heat of her arousal, how slick she was to the touch.

"Jeez, Iz, you feel so good," he muttered. Her nails dug into his shoulders and he groaned at the pleasurable bite. Her hips rubbed against his as she met his gentle thrusts with each arch.

"Only you do this to me," she whispered in his ear. Shit. Her whispers were his kryptonite. Then he thrust in harder, hitting that sweet spot inside of her, causing her to cry out. Her hand slapped over her mouth and he kissed down her collarbone and her sternum until he found the swell of her left breast. The tip of his tongue swept over her nipple and she muffled her sounds with her hand. Don moved her hand to see her teeth gnawing on her lower lip. Her inner walls were clenching tighter around him, milking his erection. The nails on her free hand bit down harder on his shoulder as her muffled cries increased in volume.

He kissed her hard in time to feel her completely let loose around him. Her body arched off the bed, her eyes rolling back. He gripped her hips, burying himself to the hilt as he felt his orgasm hit. Isabella panted under him, her hand smoothing her bangs out of her face.

"You good?" he asked. She nodded, her chest heaving. They lay there for a few moments without talking. His forehead rested on hers, their blue gazes locked together. "Is it just me or do we get better every time we do this?"

"Practice makes perfect," she quipped. She kissed him, softly at first. "Bet you're glad I used my sex voice now, right?"

Don rolled Isabella on his chest, his palm connecting with her bare ass. "Baby, you have no idea," he declared.


End file.
